


In a Strange Forest

by surreysmum



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreysmum/pseuds/surreysmum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are going to tell me what I wish to know, for you are in my power. And I care not whether you do it now, or whether you choose to suffer at my hands all day first.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Strange Forest

A little something I wrote when I certainly could have been doing something more useful. Aragorn will no doubt seem to be very much out of character at the beginning. Please trust your author. :)

**In a Strange Forest**

"Scum of an orc! I should drown you right now!" Aragorn gave a wolfish smile and once again shoved his enemy's blond head under the surface. Two fair, long-fingered hands clutched desperately at the air where they were cruelly bound around a jutting rock at the side of the deep fast stream.

As Legolas' beauteous face emerged spluttering from the water, Aragorn seized it by the chin. "Tell me who sent you," he demanded. "Was it Saruman? Sauron?"

"Aragorn," pleaded the victim of this rough handling. "Aragorn, my brother, my friend … why call you me an orc? Can you not see I am Legolas?"

"Legolas? You are nothing like Legolas!" replied the Man, shoving the other's face away in disgust. "You are some fell creature who has been magicked to resemble him, nothing more. Legolas would not ransack my pack! Legolas would not steal upon me with a knife as I slept!"

"You speak madness!" protested the blond Elf. "I am no impos…" But with a snarl of disgust, Aragorn cut off his protestations by shoving him roughly beneath the water once more. "Now," he told the Elf - or Elvish thing - when he finally permitted it to emerge, "you are going to tell me what I wish to know, for you are in my power. And I care not whether you do it now, or whether you choose to suffer at my hands all day first."

The creature, who looked so like Legolas as to be utterly indistinguishable from him, lifted its chin proudly, just as Legolas would. "Do your worst, Human," he said. "If I am a spy, which I utterly deny, it would take a better Man than you to break me." The hot sun of Harad's summer beat down upon them both, drying the water droplets on the Elf's face and on Aragorn's naked torso where he stood waist-deep in the rushing water.

"So you say now," responded the Human grimly. With a sudden motion that brought a gasp of surprise from the Elf, he reached below the water, seized both legs at the ankles and pulled hard so that the long, pale body lay supine, stretched helplessly to its fullest length along the surface of the stormy little brook. Sun-warmed rippling water purled along smooth planes of sculpted Elvish muscle, and drenched golden hair spread out like the petals of a storm-bedraggled flower around the Elf's face.

Aragorn looked, and looked long, making no attempt to hide the change in his eyes from anger to lust. "After all," he growled, "I rather hope that you will resist for a while. For I have a mind to toy with you, as I would toy with that proud Legolas were he really here and under my control." He ran a calloused fingertip up the Elf's ribcage, and tweaked roughly at a nipple, but the Elf lay floating passively under the indignity, perhaps biding his time, face unreadable. Aragorn's hands grew bolder, harsher, taking delight in leaving a transitory redness here and there on the flawless pallor: a scraping of the nails along the tender curve of an underarm, a vicious pinch at the crest of a hipbone. He pressed and squeezed, measured and manipulated, exulting in the tension under his grasp which betrayed, though the Elf would betray it in no other way, the effort it took to give no reaction.

There was no breeze at all, and the tropical heat assaulted them both. Aragorn licked his dry lips. Far above them, a bird of prey circled lazily, their only witness.

The Ranger bent his head to lap from the pool of tepid, moving water at the Elf's collarbones, and paid tribute to the long neck, first with tongue and then with nipping teeth. Under his mouth, there was a faint, stifled noise.

"Ah, there it is. Admit it, Elf - you are a wanton. You desire this mastering."

The Elf replied scornfully, "The river touches me. You touch me. It is all the same."

For answer, one of Aragorn's hands dived beneath the Elf's body, exploring new territory. "Does the river touch you here, then?" He eyed with interest the pinkening column that invaded the air as the Elf's hips bucked, no longer seeking the water's fickle modesty. "Ah well, then, since you obviously wish to be taken, I will oblige you."

"Hah? With what equipment?" The Elf spat, but the effect was lost upon his watery couch.

Aragorn's grin broadened. "Such a blatant invitation…" he taunted, and moved his hips to within inches of the Elf's face so that there could be no doubt he was just as unclothed, and just as aroused, as his victim. "Yield your mouth, and be sure you prepare me well, for your own sake."

The Elf made to turn his face aside in disgust, but he did so so briefly that it seemed mere token resistance. Soon enough, he was suckling upon the Man's organ with every appearance of enthusiasm. Then something flashed in his eyes, and it was as well for Aragorn that he had a warrior's quickness, or the meeting of the Elf's teeth would have proved far more painful.

Aragorn did not rage or strike his captive. But there was grave danger in his low tones, as he said, dryly, "I see you wish to be punished also. In this, too, I will oblige you."

"You oblige yourself and your own base desires; that is all," retorted the Elf through gritted teeth.

"Maybe so, maybe so," replied Aragorn carelessly as he scrambled out of the water, not troubling to avoid the splashing kick that the Elf aimed at him. The Ranger braced his legs wide upon the bank, then bent over and heaved his adversary up with easy strength, depositing him on a high flat rock. The Elf's hands were still bound to the rock by the stream, so he was perforce arched gloriously backwards, head upside down and hair decorating the lush grasses at the foot of the rock that bore him. His legs, unsupported, wavered in the air until Aragorn roughly doubled them back.

"Hold there," he told the Elf sternly, and his captive obeyed, though the position robbed him of all dignity. Aragorn gathered himself a fistful of long twigs. He approached the Elf's backward-flung head, and amused himself for a few seconds by brushing the very tips of the branches up and down the pale neck. "Last chance, impostor," he warned. "If you tell me this very instant whether you are of Saruman's making, or one of Sauron's minions, it will abate a little of your torment. Not all, but a little."

The Elf painfully raised his head far enough to look the Ranger in the eye, then spat out a Sindarin curse so foul that Aragorn was surprised it did not shrivel the pure-seeming lips that uttered it.

"As you wish," he said calmly and, pushing the Elf's legs backward into an even more uncomfortable position, he began to strike, evenly and with ever-increasing force. The Elf, unable to escape, seemed to have set his mind to endure, and to shame the Man with the perfection of his endurance. It became a true battle of wills, Aragorn glorying every time he extracted a sigh from the heaving chest, or an involuntary twitch from the lean thighs and buttocks he was decorating so effectively with thin red stripes.

"What, are you a lady whisking her switch at flies?" came the Elf's scornful tones.

Aragorn conceded a grudging chuckle. He let go of his captive's legs, and did not miss the stifled moan of relief that greeted the brief respite. The Ranger seized upon one of his riding gauntlets, made of solid, hard leather, and brought it down across the Elf's flat, unprotected belly with a hard slap that echoed through the trees and sent several bright-plumaged birds into the air, squawking in alarm. The Elf visibly braced himself for this new challenge, wrapping his fingers in the rope that held him. And truly, he needed the assistance, for Aragorn worked fast and ruthlessly, walloping to redness every inch of the Elf's fair skin from neck to toes, save only that one part which still, preposterously, made known its craving for attention.

Panting from his hard work, Aragorn paused and surveyed the Elf. "Now you are ready," he said, his voice more than a little rough. Hot sweat ran down his back and chest, but the fickle breeze blowing through the foreign, strangely shaped trees was hotter still and gave neither of them any relief. The Ranger reached into his quiver, withdrawing some bow grease and a spare bowstring. The latter he waved in front of the Elf's eyes, before wrapping it swiftly and cruelly many times around the base of his captive's organ. The Elf hissed aloud. Then Aragorn coated two fingers in grease and bent back the Elf's legs again, taking his time in the preparation.

"What, do you wait for Yuletide?"

"I merely ensure my own comfort," Aragorn informed him. "I am in no hurry."

If there was one thing Aragorn had learned in forty years or more of wandering the wild, mostly in solitude, it was patience. He was confident in the extent of his self-control, and it was impressive. True, when he first thrust in, he had to pause to constrain his body's rhapsodic acknowledgment of the sweet, tight heat, but as he began his grimly joyous labours, he knew himself to be fully in control of the erring Elf and able to prolong the delightful torment for just as long as he wished. Smiling, he took the Elf in hand, and teased him mercilessly.

Once, twice, three times, Aragorn brought the Elf to the very edge of rapture, twitching and squirming, his organ empurpled, and then deliberately withdrew from all contact, savouring the agonized panting that announced the Elf was now truly punished. But still the other bit his lip, or cursed under his breath, seeming to pretend that the Man who had invaded his very vitals did not actually exist.

Once more the Ranger brought his captive - nay, brought them both - to the brink, and at last he heard what he desired most. "You are cruel," whimpered the Elf quietly. "Please. Please." Aragorn cried out aloud in triumph and thrust deep, monarch of the whole world for an intoxicating, utterly draining minute. Then he staggered around the rock and lifted the Elf's head. "You are cruel," whispered the Elf again.

Aragorn undid his knots with the swift ease of a woodsman. "As cruel as you wish," he murmured, and sank his mouth over the desperate organ. Once and once again, he sucked it deep, but, feeling it twitch profoundly, he lifted his head and finished his task with his hand. For there was a sight he would never miss if he could help it. In the throes of his completion, there was a glory upon Legolas' face that rivalled the very sun.

\-------------

Legolas glanced up from where he lay comfortably upon Aragorn's shoulder. "We must address your torturing skills, Estel-nín," he said, and his tone was merry. "No orc would blink twice at what you did."

But Aragorn frowned. "I am a warrior, not a torturer," he replied. "I should hope I would never stoop so far…"

Legolas' expression softened. "Of course you would not," he answered. "And I am honoured that you would pretend for me."

Aragorn bent his head and gave him a kiss that was agonizing in its tenderness.

"I do thank you, Estel, most sincerely," Legolas went on when he was released. "These trips from end to end of Middle Earth are tedious, notwithstanding the joy of your company."

Aragorn thought to himself that the journey must indeed be tedious for Legolas, held back as he was by a companion who could barely run a full day, let alone day and night like an Elf. But he refrained from voicing the thought, for he had discovered that it pained Legolas when he referred to his own Human failings. Instead, he said, "You will remember what we agreed, Legolas-nín? I choose the game tomorrow."

Legolas smiled. "Indeed. You choose. Although, Estel-nín - please… no worshipping this time."

Aragorn's face took on a mock pout. "What, not even one single, glorious moment upon my knees?" He sighed. "Very well. I will try to control myself." They kissed again, settling into their bed of jungle leaves, and Aragorn drew his cloak around them both. Soon he was safely asleep in his lover's uncompromising embrace.

_finis_

[My ficlist is here](http://surreysmum.dreamwidth.org/48133.html).

 

  
[](http://statcounter.com/godaddy_website_tonight/)  
  


  



End file.
